12. CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 12
“ T hanks for looking after me this week.” Taylor stood in the empty theatre with Clara after he had followed her for another ten-hour day.
Clara had been unfailingly polite and helpful to him but had made sure she didn’t act like a girl with a crush. Not letting herself linger in his touches for longer than she should or get lost in the blue pools of his eyes.
“Is there anything else you want me to run over with you or show you? To make you more fluid in the movie,” Clara asked.
“I think you’ve given me a good starting point. I hope you don’t mind if I contact you about a few things during the shoot.” Taylor looked at her hopefully.
Clara glanced away from him quickly, muttering, “Of course. That’s no problem at all. Although I’m sure they’ll have medical advisers on set for you to ask.”
Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she strode out of the theatre, but Taylor easily kept pace with her.
“Yeah, you’re right. They probably will.” He stopped speaking, and the silence stretched until they were outside the changing rooms. “So, well. Can I take you for dinner tonight? As a thank you for all of this.”
Taylor stepped in front of her, forcing Clara to stop walking or crash into him.
Clara stared up at his face for a moment before she dropped her eyes and began shaking her head. If she went for dinner with him alone, she would carry on getting more ideas than her stupid brain had already concocted. And in a few hours, Taylor would be gone from her life, so she needed to get her head out of the clouds and firmly back into her normality. Which was Wednesday pub quiz, Thursday night in, then every other day in the week was a night in. Going out with a Hollywood star, kidding herself into thinking that her life could be something more, something vividly bright, rather than the drab colours it usually was, would just hurt her.
“That’s kind of you. But I can’t tonight,” she lied, her gaze skittering around without meeting his.
“Another pub quiz?”
“No,” she mumbled.
“A date?”
Her eyes met his for a second before she looked away. “No.”
“Sooooo…?” Taylor let his question hang in the air.
“I, um, well,” Clara faltered and internally kicked herself; she was a terrible liar.
“Have I done something wrong?” Taylor asked quietly.
Clara’s eyes snapped up, finally meeting Taylor’s bright blue ones.
“No. You haven’t. It’s just I, umm, I…” she hesitated, and as she stared at him, her resolve to protect herself wavered, and she found herself saying. “I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you and teaching you this week, and I appreciate your offer for dinner. I was turning you down because, because,” she wracked her brain and finally thought of an excuse that didn’t involve admitting that she had a crush on him. “I didn’t want you to feel obliged. It was no problem at all showing you around and teaching you. You don’t owe me anything.”
Internally, she berated herself; she had just made it obvious that she wanted to go.
“I don’t feel obliged. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, and it would be nice to take you to dinner. In actual clothes, not pyjamas, and no pub quiz team.” His expression was hopeful.
Clara could only stand there staring at Taylor, bewildered by the movie star, who seemed determined to take her to dinner.
Finally, she blurted, “Is the ferret on your face coming too?”
She couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped at the thought of the fake beard he had worn, and her hand shot up to her mask-covered mouth.
Taylor’s eyebrow rose as he informed her, “I’ve still got the ferret on.”
“What?” Clara snorted. “I am so sorry; that just keeps happening.”
“No problem. I’m glad my need to disguise and the facial ferret makes you laugh,” Taylor said seriously.
Clara tried so hard, but another snort of laughter bubbled out of her, and she smothered it to say, “Is that why you kept your mask on all day?”
She finally looked at his face properly to see the beard peeking out the corner of his mask.
“Yeah. I figured I was taking you out for dinner and might as well keep the beard on so we didn’t get bothered.” He lifted his hand and scratched at the side of it.
Without thinking, Clara reached out and tugged on some of the stray strands of beard peeking out from the corner of his mask.
He caught her fingers, murmuring, “Don’t tug on it. Its glue is a little precarious. And we don’t want the ferret falling off onto my dinner plate.”
Clara tried to pull her hand back, but he kept hold of it, and she swore he brushed his thumb over her palm.
For a moment, she forgot she was in a hospital corridor as she gazed at the man standing before her. The first man in a long time who had paid her any attention. Who had looked at her with eyes that seemed to suggest something other than friendship.
“Hi, Doctor Upford,” said Jane, one of the Junior doctors, as she walked behind Taylor.
Clara yanked her hand back from Taylor’s and stepped away from him, glad she was still wearing her mask.
From the heat she could feel in her cheeks, she knew she was flushing a fire engine shade of red, and her voice came out a little squeaky. “Hi, Jane. Have a good evening.”
“You too,” Jane replied.
Despite the theatre cap still on Jane’s head, Clara was sure that she could see the junior doctor’s eyebrows waggling suggestively before she pushed open the changing room door.
“Where shall we go?” Taylor queried when the young doctor was gone.
“For what?” Clara was flustered and had lost her train of thought, only able to think about the feel of his hand on hers.
“For dinner. What’s good in town?”
“Oh yeah. Dinner. Um, to be honest, everywhere’s a bit shit.” She laughed apologetically.
Taylor snorted with laughter at her blunt statement.
“Okay then,” he chuckled. “Which one is the least shit?”
“Hang on, let me check the weather.”
Clara and Taylor had spent the whole day in a windowless box; there could have been a tornado outside, and they wouldn’t have a clue.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the weather app.
“It’s supposed to be twenty-five degrees. No sign of rain. The food is very blah, but let’s go and sit in the pub beer garden. The chairs are comfy, and it’s lovely on a warm evening.”
Taylor pulled out his phone. “I’ll book a table.”
Clara laughed and reached out, pushing his phone down. “Yeah. You don’t need to make a reservation at the pub. How long since you went to a normal pub?”
“Not long,” he hedged.
“Yesterday doesn’t count.” She sputtered with laughter.
“In that case. A long time. I don’t get to go to normal bars,” he confirmed, his eyes turning down.
“Why not?” Clara asked with real interest, forgetting they were still standing in the corridor.
He shrugged. “I go to the places my agent, manager or publicist sends me to.”
“Not the pub?”
“Not even with the ferret on my face. They used to tell me it wasn’t the sort of place a leading man would be seen at. And then I wasn’t allowed to go as they knew I’d drink beer and eat fries.” His voice sounded wistful.
“And your trainer and nutritionists would both have fits?” Clara parroted his words from the previous night.
Taylor groaned, “Absolutely. I have to go to places that will serve food that fits in with my diet. Or they can phone ahead and request that they cook special food for me.”
“Boring food?” She tried not to giggle.
“Really boring food,” he groaned louder.
“I know you’ve got to take your shirt off soon. But let’s go and drink beer and eat burgers. Then you can lie through your teeth to your team tomorrow.” Clara beamed.
“That sounds like an excellent plan. How long do you need to get ready? What time shall I pick you up?”
“No time. We should just go straight there.” Clara couldn’t see the point in going home to change. He knew exactly what she looked like, in her pyjamas, in her work clothes—also pyjamas—and topless—she cringed hard at that one.
“You don’t want to change?” he said hesitantly.
She shrugged. “No. I’ll just change into another pair of shorts and a T-shirt. The ones I wore this morning will be fine.”
“Or makeup?”
Clara’s hands flew to her face, and she flinched. He thought she needed to put makeup on. She obviously didn’t look good enough for him to be seen with her. She was so stupid; she should just go home.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to take me out to dinner.” She dashed away from him towards the changing room door.
“Clara. Wait. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired. This was a stupid idea,” Clara muttered, swiping her badge over the changing room door to let herself in and pushing it open.
Taylor caught her hand before she could leave.
“Did I do something wrong?” His voice was full of confusion.
Clara took a few deep breaths and was about to lie to him, telling him she had a headache, when she realised it didn’t matter. She would never see him again, so she might as well tell the truth.
“I’m sorry you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. You don’t need to take me to dinner. It was kind of you to offer. But I’m just going to head home.”
“Embarrassed? What? No! I just thought you might want to get ready,” he apologised, gripping her hand tighter.
“It’s okay. It was great meeting you. Although a little surreal. I promise I’ll go and see your next movie in the cinema when it comes out. And I won’t let anyone know you were here,” Clara mumbled and tried to step backwards out of his grip, but his hand tightened on hers.
“I want to take you out to dinner,” he said firmly, his blue eyes burning into hers.
Clara shook her head at him, unable to hold his gaze, whispering, “It’s fine.”
Realisation washed over Taylor’s face.
“Oh shit, no. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t need to go and put makeup on or change clothes. You’re always pretty. It’s just, well, I’ve not taken out anyone for a long time who didn’t need at least an hour to do their makeup and hair and try four different outfits on. I just assumed you would want to.” He stumbled over his words in his rush to explain.
Clara’s head tilted as she stared at him, assessing if he was telling the truth.
She said nothing for thirty seconds before she sighed and muttered, “I’ll meet you at the pub.” She tried not to latch onto it, but Taylor Anderson had said she was pretty.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I really, really didn’t mean to cause offence.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “That’s the last thing I would want to do.”
“It’s all fine. I’m not offended. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes. If you arrive first, try and grab an outside table.”
Nodding, Clara opened the door to the changing room, gently pulling her hand out of his and walking away, sighing deeply when she was safely away from Taylor.
Stopping, she gave herself a short lecture about the futility of all of this and how she shouldn’t let her heart flutter with excitement at the thought of spending more time with him, especially as this was the last time she would ever see him in person.
However, when she looked in the mirror, she could see that her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement. Rolling her eyes at her own idiocracy, she went to get changed.